Returning
by CSIdrabbles
Summary: AU, postTwilight, Kibbs fic: You feel a little jealous of your dog. He’s going to get to see Gibbs a whole twelve hours before you and the girls do.
1. I'm Here

**Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS, or any of the characters, places, whatever. I wish I did, but I don't.  
**A/N: **This is post-Twilight, AU. It was originally posted on LiveJournal under the username **PureRose**. It should run to about thirty chapters, each chapter title is taken from the **100prompts** table 30A.

**I'm Here [002**

Rebel knows that something is amiss before you are aware of any changes in the still night air. You hear the gentle lapping of the sea on the beach; it's a mile away but life here is quiet. The only other sound is the low, throaty grumble from Rebel at your side. He raises his hackles, staring at something towards the left of the white gate beyond your roses.

His growl deepens as you tense and make a jerky motion towards your hip, remembering in a fraction of a second that you no longer carry a weapon. Your only protection now is the growling dog at your side.

You hate how vulnerable you feel right now and shrink back into the shadows on the porch, hoping whoever is hanging around at the gate cannot see you. A movement prompts Rebel's pitch to jump and become one note away from a full bark. You want to ask who's there but when you open your mouth you find it is dry, your tongue seems paralysed.

"Kate?"

The voice makes you jump. Rebel lets out a high yelp but doesn't move from your side, opting to return to the threatening grumble once more. The voice is one which you never imagined hearing again and the familiarity scares you.

Another movement at the gate sets you trembling. A dark figure unlatches the gate and moves towards you. You want to run inside screaming but something keeps you glued to the spot; you just can't will yourself to move. It's like you're trapped in a dream, something unbelieveable seems to be happening to you.

"Gibbs?" Your voice is little more than a whisper, you can't believe he's here.

As he gets closer you see he is grinning. "I'm here," he replies, echoing your whisper.


	2. Secret

**Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS, or any of the characters, places, whatever. I wish I did, but I don't.  
**A/N: **This is post-Twilight, AU. It was originally posted on LiveJournal under the username **PureRose**. It should run to about thirty chapters, each chapter title is taken from the **100prompts** table 30A.

* * *

**Secret [010**

Rebel lets out a little whine, sounding almost disappointed that you've not given him permission to attack this stranger. The truth is, you couldn't set him on this man, this stranger, even if you had wanted to. Then the whine falters, becomes a high-pitched yip and his tail begins to wag. Another figure appears behind him, for a moment you tense again but then you recognise agent Larry Ingram. You raise your hand and he nods in your direction.

As usual Larry remains serious, but there's a smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Your throat feels dry and you have the briefest suspicious that you know why he's here.

"Can we come in?" He asks. You look from Larry to Gibbs, it's as though you've stepped into some sort of surreal alter-world. When you open your mouth to reply you find that your voice has gone AWOL. "There's _something_ we should discuss." The stress that he places on 'something' tells you that your suspicions are right.

Finally you find your voice, "You'd better come inside."

Larry nods at you and then looks to Gibbs who moves up the garden path towards you. As he advances Rebel begins his warning growl again but this time you place your hand on his head to quiet him.

Passing you Gibbs touches your arm. You _need_ that contact. You _need _to know that he is really here. He is.

You slip in after him, completely ignoring Larry who slips in behind you and shuts the door. The two men standing in your hallway couldn't be more different; Larry, young, enthusiastic, jeans, baggy t-shirt, and Gibbs, jacket, trousers, tennis shirt, looking like he's come straight from work. Larry is a regular fixture in your house, in this new life he's a friend from college, he looks comfortable in these surroundings.

Gibbs is another matter. It's been almost two years since you last saw him. He looks a little older, a little more weather-worn, a little greyer around the temples, but he's still Gibbs. The same Gibbs who held you briefly almost two years ago. The same Gibbs who broke all his own rules with you. The same Gibbs you had to leave without saying goodbye, for your sake and his.

"How? You're… You… I…" You stutter, still unable to form a coherant sentence, still barely acknowledging Larry's presence.

"We should take a seat." Larry suggests, looking from you to your former boss. "This could take a while."

Gibbs' expression doesn't change, he's still smiling at you, his own brand of disbelief etched on his face. Larry's voice has interrupted your study of him and you nod dumbly. You take a deep breath and try to speak once more. "Have a seat. Coffee?" You ask pointing towards the living room. It's only four words, but it's a start.

The men comply. You follow them into your own living room where Gibbs takes a seat on the floral print, two-seater couch. Larry takes one of the matching armchairs, pulling one leg onto his knee and generally makes himself at home. You head on through to the kitchen. Mechanically you make coffee, Larry's is a no-brainer, you make him coffee often enough. Remembering how Gibbs takes his coffee is amazing but you're not in the mood for marvelling at the ability of the human memory.

As the drink brews you consider what he is doing here. It is late and he has come with Larry. That means that your whereabouts is no longer hidden. Your mind goes into overdrive, maybe you'll be able to go home, maybe you can stop hiding, maybe all the secrets can end. The coffee finishes but it takes you a moment to compose yourself. Finally you head back to the living room.

Rebel is resting his head on Gibbs's knee, submitting to a thorough nose-scratching. _Some guard dog_ you think, setting down the coffee on a coaster, or maybe he has realised that Gibbs is someone you're comfortable with. You take a seat opposite him, in a large comfy chair covered in a blue throw – you placed it there to hide a large stain, a few months ago it matched the couch.

For a few moments you simply study the pair. It's surreal having Gibbs sititng in your living room after so long. After a moment he pauses, reaches forward for his coffee and cups both hands around the mug. Rebel looks most disgruntled at this blantant show of neglect.

"So… why? How?" You try again, pause, sigh, make a second attempt. "What's going on?"

"It's over." Gibbs says simply. You look from him to Larry, half expecting this to be revealed as a joke, or to learn that you're just not following the conversation.

Larry seems to read your disbelief. "We're making arrangements. We figured that you'd have some things to discuss with Gibbs here." He drains his cup of scalding coffee, you've never understood how he can drink it like that.

"I…" You begin, but he cuts you off.

"I'm afraid I've got to run Katie. I expect you've got a lot to catch up on." He winks at you, your cheeks flush and you stare pointedly at him, not letting your eyes meet Gibbs. "I can make my own way out." He tells you as he gets to his feet and strides out of the room before you can speak.

An awkward silence descends between you. On the one hand two years is no time at all, yet at the same time it seems like an eternity. _How does one 'catch up' with an eternity?_ You don't know where to begin.

Unfortunately Gibbs seems a little unsure of where to start too. It's one of the few times you've ever seen the man lost for words. To cover the silence Gibbs lifts his coffee and takes a long drink. You mimic him and sip your own. As you drink a small white box in the corner of the room gives a squawk. Rebel paces towards it, grumbling, reminding you of it's presence.

"I… I have to get this." You mutter, pushing yourself up from your seat and making for the doorway. You know that Gibbs is following you but you say nothing. Now is as good a time as any to begin 'catching up'.


	3. Cry

**Author's Notes/Disclaimer: **Once again, this is set AU, post-Twilight. It's also the third chapter of an ongoing story which has been inspired by the 100 prompts challenge.

**Cry [020**

By the time you get to the top of the staircase and turned along the landing the squawk has grown louder. By the time you reach the door it has been joined by a twin voice, this one repeating "Mum mum mum mum" over and over again. Gibbs has stopped at the top of the stairs, not moving any closer.

"I'm here." You coo as you enter the room. Curiosity seems to get the better of Gibbs and he follows you in.

Behind the door in one white crib your daughter, Elizabeth, is standing, cheeks pink and wailing. Across the room her dark-haired twin is calling to you, a big grin on her face. You bend over the cot and scoop up the little girl in the pale green sleepsuit, fish a tissue out of your pocket and wipe her streaming nose. Holding onto the side of the crib, her sister bounces up and down on unsteady legs, still calling out to you.

Gibbs remains standing in the doorway and you turn to face him, bouncing your crying daughter on your hip.

"Your daughters?" He asks and your suspicions that Larry has not mentioned the girls to him are realised. Gibbs knows nothing about your new life.

"Twins. Fifteen months old." You watch as his eyes glaze momentarily, he's doing the math. Comprehension seems to dawn. He glances from you to Elizabeth, to Bridget, back to you. You nod at his unspoken question. You're half expecting him to ask 'Are you sure?' or some variation thereof, but he remains silent, gazing from his fair-haired daughter to his brunette one.

Without speaking he breaks your eye contact and crosses the room to where Bridget is bouncing up and down. As he gets closer she sits down abruptly. You expect her to cry, she usually fusses when she falls, but instead she is just studying her father. You whisper a few more words to Elizabeth and gradually the sobs subside enabling you to turn and watch Bridget and Gibbs.

He is standing about a foot away from the edge of the crib, father and daughter both looking into the others face. You wonder if Bridget has recognised this stranger from the sketches you have drawn, it's probably impossible, the sketches were so unlike Gibbs, distorted by memory, and she's barely a year old.

When Bridget stretches out her arms towards Gibbs he looks round nervously at you. "Can I?" You nod and he bends over the crib, lifting her under her armpits, for a moment he seems reluctant to draw her closer to him. When he does he looks so happy, you smile and kiss Elizabeth's soft hair.


	4. Funeral

**Authors Notes/Disclaimer:** Characters aren't really mine, I'm just trying them on for size. This is set post-Twilight, AU and all that jazz.

**Funeral [003**

The night seems never ending, convenient as you really want this moment to go on forever. Gibbs is so fascinated by his daughters that you don't want to keep him from them any longer. Against your better judgement you decide not to try settling them to sleep and allow them an extended playtime in the living room. Rebel curls in a ball on the floor beside Gibbs. You know that he's frustrated that the babies are getting more attention than him by the little 'huff' he makes as he lies down, but he's soon fast asleep, occasionally making yipping noises as he chases imaginary cats.

Your daughters soon reveal themselves as polar opposites. Elizabeth is shy of this stranger, she clutches at your neck and snuffles, but Bridget loves her father. She doesn't want you to pick her up or hold her, she wants Gibbs.

He watches her in awe. "How long has she been doing that?"

You turn and see her stacking building blocks, deep in concentration as she tries, and fails, to place the fourth securely atop the third. Ordinarily such a question would probably be met with nonchalance, she has been doing it for over a month now. But Gibbs doesn't know. He's never seen her before today, his daughters are amazing and he knows it.

When Elizabeth begins to fuss once again he holds her while you administer the next dose of Tylenol. Later she falls asleep in his arms having overcome her earlier shyness. Bridget sits between you, babbling away. Over and over again she points to Gibbs and says something which sounds alarmingly like 'Larry'.

"Larry's really the only guy she ever sees." You explain to a confused Gibbs. "As far as she's concerned, all men are 'Larries'."

When the girls have fallen asleep and have been returned to their cribs upstairs it is time to catch up. You are dying for information from back home but Gibbs is more concerned with learning about you. Whenever you ask a question about work or his life it is carefully deflected, you don't care, it's good just having him there with you.

You give him the obligatory tour of the house; Gibbs spends an age studying the photos on the walls; the girls as newborns, you with a pair of tiny bundles in your arms, a child in a car seat with dark hair, two little girls sitting in high chairs covered in something orange ('puréed carrot' you explain with a shrug).

He lingers for a long time at one pinned up in the kitchen, next to the shopping list on your corkboard; a snapshot taken at the work Christmas party the first year you were living here. In it you are about ready to pop, your belly large and round, hair long and loose, the light shines off the tiny beads on your cardigan. You were chatting to some friends when it was taken, laughing at a joke, your smile is wide and natural. One hand is raised to brush the hair back from your face, the other cups your abdomen. Gibbs studies the photo for several minutes, seemingly unaware that you are watching him before he snaps back to reality and you move back to the living room.

When you take a seat on the couch your heart jumps when he sits just a little closer than before.

Conversation picks up again. Gibbs scoots around the history of the photo he had studied in order to cover your new line of work – a job you acquired by accident at the local library. It is through talking to him that you realise how much time has changed you; things that never would have interested you two years ago are suddenly given top priority, whether Gibbs is truly interested in the link-up scheme you've organised between the library and the local elementary school you're not sure, but he listens as though he is all the same.

The clock on the DVD player tells you that it's late, very late, and the coffee is running low when Gibbs finally begins to talk about life back in Washington. Experience tells you that there's something that he clearly doesn't want to bring up, afterall, a lifetime ago it was your job to know when someone was being evasive. He talks about your replacement, a woman, you're pleased to hear, who seems to be able to give Tony a run for his money. Then he falls silent. You ask about his boat. He speaks again for a little while, but seems to be coming dangerously close to whatever it is that he's avoiding and falls silent once more.

At last you feel frustration bubbling inside you. You're fed up of being in the dark, hidden. "Just tell me. Please."

Despite your physical proximity, when he looks up at you you're suddenly aware of the distance between you. There's a pain in his eyes that you've never seen before, like he's being torn in two and you know, without needing to hear him say it. You know that there's a woman, back there in Washington, that some other woman has what you once had.

"You were dead." He begins. "It took me so long to get over that. I couldn't forget you, but I…" He trails off but you know what he means. "I'm sorry."

You want to ask if he loves her but you're scared of the answer and the other questions it might prompt; 'do you love me?' or 'did you ever love me?' fly around your mind. The possible answers to these questions scare you more than learning his feelings for another woman. Like Bridget's building blocks everything seems to have collapsed.

His hand on yours makes you look up. Your cheeks are damp but you don't care. "If I'd know… We've got the girls. We're going to work something out" He says. You want to rage at him that it's not enough, but that's unfair, he cares about your children and you believe him when he says that you'll work something out.

"Thank you." You murmur, feeling more angry at yourself than at him, unsure of what else you should say in this situation, and wipe your cheeks on the back of you hand. He stretches out his arm and you curl into his side. If you close your eyes none of this has happened. It could be two years ago and everything in the world is fine.

For a long time you sit together, imagining the rest of the world away. You're beginning to wonder if he's still awake when a whispered voice answers your unspoken question. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done." You're not sure what he means, but you sense that there's more coming. Shifting slightly you look up at him, willing him to continue. "Burying you."

Your breath catches in your throat, this conversation has crossed the line into the totally bizarre. You say nothing, there's a quiver in his voice that you don't think you've ever heard before.

It's so long until he speaks again that you don't think he's going to say any more. When he does it's quiet and slow. "I was late."

There is nothing you can say. Looking up at his face you see tears. He is crying for you, for losing you, for not doing more, for moving on with his life.

"I'm sorry." He says. You could laugh at the absurdity of it, this man, Gibbs, apologising to you for being late to your fake funeral. But it wasn't fake for them. For Gibbs, Tony, Abby, your friends, family. It was real. They buried you. And now they've moved on.

The thought paralyses you. Even if you go back, everyone you left behind has changed. Nothing can be the same again.

When you bury your face in his neck and whisper "I want to come home." Gibbs holds you tight. You both know that you're not just talking about returning to Washington. Home was two years ago. What's left for you now is completely unknown.

And you're scared.


	5. Beach

**Authors Notes/Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this... I should have the second series on DVD in three to five working days though... don't think that counts for anything. Also, this is AU, post-Twilight, set some time after series 4 (I think).

Also, thank you for all your comments and reviews (here and at my LiveJournal); I'm trying to keep updating at a good rate. Once I'm back at Uni next Tuesday I probably will only be able to update on Saturdays and Sundays, but keeping checking back and I'll do what I can :D

**Beach [018**

For the first time in two years you actually feel glad that you 'died' back in Washington. Saying goodbye to Gibbs the next day is the hardest thing you've ever done. Elizabeth and Bridget remain unusually quiet as you wave him off on the porch, then, when you've deposited the girls in their play pen you stand by the sink in the kitchen and sob. They might still be babies but you don't want the girls to see you cry. In the next room you hear a steady chorus of "Mum mum mum mum" but you can't face them, not until you've washed your face and eliminated all trace of tears.

But you can't wallow in self-pity, you won't let yourself, you don't have the time to.

You suddenly feel trapped in the house. Like you can't breathe. Just sitting on the couch reminds you of leaning against Gibbs, closing your eyes and falling asleep with his scent surrounding you.

What you need right now is activity, you need to get out and do something. Anything.

It takes you almost an hour to bundle up the girls, despite being summer the weather could be warmer and with Elizabeth's cold you're not taking any chances. Rebel watches you with his head tilted slightly, he's hoping that he'll be invited on this outing but knows that you'll tell him off if he bounds around under your feet.

You're not even sure where you're planning to go. You consider walking, but that won't get you far enough from the house. As you fish in the bowl by the door for your car keys you notice Rebel staring hard at the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Normally you would leave him behind but he looks so hopeful that you feel guilty about leaving him alone.

"Okay Rebel. You can come." You sigh, adjusting Bridget on your hip. Immediately he starts bouncing up and down on his forepaws, coming dangerously close to Elizabeth who looks in danger of being trodden on. "Rebel! Sit!" You command. If dogs could frown Rebel would be frowning now. His rump hits the floor quickly and you mutter "good boy" as you move to the cupboard to retrive his leash.

You hand the dog his leash and he takes the handle between his teeth, his whole body quivers with excitement at being taken out for a treat. Calling him after you, you take the girls out to the car, strap them into their car seats and set Rebel in the back beside the girls stroller. The minute he's in the car he drops his leash and starts grumbling to tell you to hurry up.

You drive aimlessly, listening to the girls babbling together, the dog whining and the mindless drivel on the radio; some woman wants to leave her husband because she feels bored.

Twenty minutes later you stop the car, you found this place about two weeks after you arrived here. You needed some quiet time and found this windy little beach. There is very little sand, a lot of shingle and many, many pebbles. You've imagined bringing the girls here to climb on the rocks and search the pools as you once did with your brothers and sister. Will they ever come here if you move back to Washington?

You struggle with the double stroller for a couple of minutes, finally strap the girls in and hook your wrist through the dog's leash. For about the hundredth time you ponder whether it would be possible to attach Rebel to the stroller so that he can do all the hard work as you walk along the sea front. The dog in question is trotting along happily at your side, occasionally snapping at a stick or staring out to sea at a gull or some other mystery creature.

As you follow your dog's gaze away in the distance you spot a boat, not a big ship, a sail boat. You feel a pang in your chest as you think about another boat, many miles away and it's owner.

"Look girls." You say, turning the stroller and pointing in the direction of the boat. "See the boat."

Bridget looks at you but Elizabeth seems to follow your finger and stretches out her own finger to mimic you. "Boat." Elizabeth says confidently.

"Lally." Bridget tells her sister. "Lally boat."

"No honey." You tell her. "Larry doesn't have a boat." A thought seizes you. "Daddy has a boat." Both girls look at you; Elizabeth's mouth is in a wide 'O', Bridget wears a cheeky grin. "You'll see it soon." Rebel is pulling on his leash so you rise and turn the stroller once more.

"Lally boat." Bridget says once more, with feeling, as you walk back towards the car.

You just strapped the girls into the car and Rebel is watering a nearby bush when your cell phone begins to ring. It takes to a moment to catch where the sound is coming from, you use the thing so rarely here.

You're expecting it to be Larry but when the display reveals an unknown number you debate not answering. Luckily you do.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. I just got back. How're my girls?" Your heart flutters, then falls, you doubt that you're included in that statement.

"They're fine. We're all fine. We've just been to the beach." You wave at Rebel to catch his attention and he trots towards you. "In." You hiss at him, pointing at the car, he obliges and squeezes in next to the stroller. You wander round to the front of the car and sit side on, feet on the concrete, body in the car.

"Mmm hmm." He replies. You wonder if there's anything else he wanted to say or if this was just him checking in.

"Lally boat!" Comes a voice from over your shoulder.

"What was that?" Gibbs asks with a laugh.

"Boat." Adds Elizabeth, joining in with her sister.

"We saw a boat. Bridget thinks it's yours… or Larry's… I'm not sure which."

Gibbs laughs. You can picture him smiling, the creases around his eyes, that looks that appeared on his face each time one of the girls said or did anything amusing last night. "I should go, I've got some things to sort out here." He tells you. You can still hear a trace of a laugh in his voice.

You hesitate. "Can I… Can I call you tonight?" You close your eyes and raise a hand to your forehead, if he says no does it mean he's got a date?

He doesn't pause. "Sure. Say seven? Or would you -"

"Seven is fine."

Whether it is the trip out of the house, sharing something with your daughters, speaking to Gibbs or a combination of all three, you are in far brighter spirits when you return home, serenaded the whole way back by your daughters' happy giggles.


	6. Phone Call

**Authors Notes/Disclaimer:** I own nothing, unfortunately Kate and Gibbs are not mine. This is AU, post-Twilight.

I'll try to keep these coming as often as I can, going back to Uni means less time at work/on the computer so it means that I don't have as much time to type/upload chapters. On the plus side I spend about five hours a day travelling (woot for ferry journeys, what really gets you in the mood for writing about Gibbs... being on a boat of course) so at least that means plenty of time to actually write, rewrite, rerewrite and rererewrite my chapters. :D

Thanks again for all the reviews and comments. I'm so glad that people are enjoying it. Especially the fact that it's written in second person. I don't know why I did that and I don't know if I'll ever do it again. It was mad and I have to keep rewriting the bits when I suddenly switch to first or third person. Ack!

Anyway, this chapter's pretty much all just Kate and Gibbs. Rebel and the girls will make another appearance shortly :D

**Writer's Choice [026 **_**Phone Call**_

The contents of your house are slowly relocating to the large cardboard boxes which have appeared in the corners of every room. One of the few remaining objects on your nightstand is your phone, which you are studying intently, the way that Rebel studies a tasty treat, waiting for it to ring.

Over the past few days you have come to rely on these phone calls. When the thought of moving back to Washington and starting over becomes too much, you begin planning the things you want to say to Gibbs when he calls later that day. You make mental lists of things that the girls have done that you must tell him, things you need to check before you leave to join him, questions you have that he'll definitely know the answer to.

When the phone finally rings it's all you can do to keep yourself from leaping across the bed to grab it.

You take a moment to compose yourself and check the caller ID before answering with what you hope is a casual "Hello?"

"Hey. You okay? You sound out of breath." Gibbs tells you.

"Uh, yeah. I was… uh… just moving some stuff." You lie, not wanting him to know that the highlight of your day is when he calls you.

The first points that you cover are interesting things that you think he should know about the girls. You try to describe how Elizabeth was dancing to a song on radio earlier that day, but you don't remember what the song was and somehow you don't think you do the story justice. Gibbs laughs all the same and the sound of his voice really relaxes you.

"I need to speak to you about something." He says, suddenly serious. All at once there's an awkward silence at the other end of the line. You know Gibbs is trying to think of the best way to phrase what he's about to say.

"Is it about her?" You ask tentatively, hoping that you can prompt him into speech.

To your surprise Gibbs laughs. "Oh no." He sounds relieved. "It's just… there's been a problem with the place you were supposed to be going to…"

"Problem how?"

"It's not going to be available. I got a call from the guy about it today. Something about water damage."

You can't believe that he hasn't told you about this earlier. "What!" Gibbs is actually speechless, he sputters a couple of times on the other end of the line. "Gibbs! That was the only place I could afford. I don't know how long it's going to be till I can get back into work… What am I going to do? I've got to be out of here by the end of the month."

"It's going to be okay." He replies sounding irritatingly calm. You can't understand how he can be so blasé about it, in two weeks time you and your children will be homeless. "There's room at my place."

"Your… Stay with… _You_?" You sputter.

"I just thought… it would give you a chance to get back on your feet here." He sounds a little hurt.

"Wouldn't it get in the way of…" You trail off, not wanting to be the one to bring up the other woman. Since the day Gibbs left you've been operating an unspoken agreement, neither of you speaks about her. You tell yourself that there's no reason for Gibbs to tell you anything, there's nothing between you, though you can't define this odd new relationship that you seem to have developed.

"There's plenty of space for you and the girls. I'm barely there." He hesitates. "It might be good to have a bit of life in the house."

You want to tell him that you need to think about it. That it's probably not a good idea. That you're not sure you can live with him without _being_ with him. But you say nothing.

"I mean. If you don't think it's a good idea. We could make other arrangements." He speaks quickly as though he can take back his earlier offer.

"No." You interrupt. "If you're okay with it I'm okay with it. Just until I get back on my feet."

When you hang up you can't help but think that you're making a mistake. Moving in with a man you were close to… you cared about… you loved… when he's moved on can't be a good idea. You don't really have any other option. You're not taking that much with you, but the things you do have will need space. If you're going to share responsibility for the girls he'll need their things there anyway.

By the time you go to bed at last, with Rebel curled beside your hip, you have almost convinced yourself that staying with Gibbs is the right thing to do. After all, it won't be for long.

Your last thought as you slip away from wakefulness is that you can't believe that you're starting over again and wondering what shape your new life will take in the city. That night you dream of your old haunts, coffe shops, the health food store, the park, but this time you are no longer visiting them alone.


	7. Taxi

**Authors Notes/Disclaimer:** I own nothing, unfortunately Kate and Gibbs are not mine. This is AU, post-Twilight. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the comments and reviews. I love hearing what you guys think of what I've written.

Sorry this chapter has been a while coming. I was hoping to have it up on Wednesday but then I got totally swamped, so here it is now. Better late than never.

**Taxi [024**

You are stressed. All of your things are in boxes and suitcases. You're alarmed at how little you've acquired in the past couple of years. Most of your furniture is to be left behind, it was never really yours anyway, it came with the house. The girls cribs are among the only things still standing which have yet to be packed. On the day that you leave to go to the motel, the night before you are due to fly back… fly home, Larry comes and helps you dismantle them.

Watching him sitting on the girls bedroom floor, sorting screws and washers into little plastic bags for reassembly back in Washington, you are reminded of a time shortly after your arrival here. As if the shock of discovering your pregnancy hadn't been enough, learning that you were expecting twins was terrifying. You became an emotional wreck. You had sat in the corner of that very room, feet up on a stool, watching as Larry swore at bits of wood and metal. Now you're watching the same scene in reverse.

Leaving the house is an oddly sad occasion. You've spent the last few days taking as many photographs of the place as you can. The girls will never remember this home but you intend to tell them all about the unusual circumstances which led to their first year there. Together you and Larry wave off the removal van, a tiny little thing, containing most of your clothes, the girls toys and some other little bits and pieces steeped in memories of your time in the town.

Larry drives you, the girls and Rebel to the motel, Rebel whines all the way there. He's excited about the car journey but obviously doesn't realise that in a few hours he'll be separated from you and on his way to the airport with Larry. For most of the short trip to the motel you are silent. The girls are singing in the back; their new favourite song is 'row, row, row your boat', they only know the first line so it is more than a little irritating.

Noticing your grated nerves Larry rests a hand on yours and gives it a friendly squeeze. You're grateful for his support right now and you give him a brief smile before closing your eyes and dreaming of where you'll be in less than twenty-four hours time… when Gibbs will be meeting you at the airport…

A nudge wakes you. "We're here." Larry tells you. He's already out of the car and unfastening Bridget from her car seat. You move around to the other side of the car and retrieve Elizabeth while he gets your room key.

He doesn't hang around for long. He has to take Rebel to the airport. You feel a little jealous of your dog. He's going to get to see Gibbs a whole twelve hours before you and the girls do. Larry promises that he'll be back at nine o'clock the next morning and suggests that you get some rest. You can't really see that happening. You're like a child at Christmas. The sooner tomorrow comes the better. The sooner you get back…

Despite telling Larry that you'll never get to sleep it is surprisingly easy to drift off once the girls have collapsed in their shared cot. Before you are even aware of having dozed off the alarm on your phone is ringing and the girls are calling for you.

Kneeling in front of the bathtub that morning you tell your daughters that they'll see their Daddy today.

"Lally." Elizabeth tells you.

"Boat." Her twin adds.

"Yes. Daddy has a boat." You reply, wondering how to break them of the habit of calling Gibbs 'Larry'.

A little after eight you get a phone call from Larry. "Hi, Katie. I'm really sorry, I've got caught up with something here. I'm not going to be able to go with you today."

You feel your blood pressure begin to rise. "But I can't take the girls by myself, I need someone with me on the plane. Should I postpone the flight?"

"It's okay. I've arranged it with a friend. He's going to go with you." You begin to bluster about how the girls will be difficult. Elizabeth can be murder with people she doesn't know, and once one starts the other will begin to complain too, but Larry cuts you off. "Trust me. The girls know him. You know him. It'll be fine. I'll see you later."

You're about to ask how he'll see you later if he's not going to make the flight, but just like that he's gone.

You begin pacing the small motel room while the girls watch in amusement from the floor. You're angry at Larry for being so calm about abandoning you with someone you barely know at the last moment. While you check your bags over and over again you wrack your brains trying to remember who this mystery agent could be; someone you and the girls know, could be anyone – Larry's had several partners over the past two years.

There is little movement outside the window so when the cab pulls up outside it catches your attention. A man inside leans forward and pays the driver, grabs a bag from the seat beside him and gets out. You see silver hair and immediately you know who Larry has sent to escort you.

You propel yourself to the door feeling embarrassed with yourself at being angry with Larry.

"You." Is all you can say as Gibbs strolls towards you with his bag slung over his shoulder. "You came."

"Yes." He says as the taxi drives away. "I did."


End file.
